


Firestride

by deviantgrey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Arranged Marriage, Blood Magic (Dragon Age), Canon Divergence, Dreamers (Dragon Age), Magisterium (Dragon Age), Multi, Original Tevinter Character, Tevinter Culture and Customs, The Fade, mentions of torture, no beta because i require instant gratification
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23290972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviantgrey/pseuds/deviantgrey
Summary: “My father spoke of this Elder One…” Nesaerys hissed, her anger building. “This was his doing? He killed all of those people at the Conclave and you support him?!”The magister turned on her, his eyes mad with rage. “Now you, I am not surprised by. I tried to tell the Elder One you were unworthy of His plans for you.” Felix stepped between her and his father as their tempers flared. “No matter, I will deal with you too.”“Stop this madness, please!” Felix shouted, ready to defend Nesaerys, but still hoping his father would see sense. “Give this up and we can all go home.”Nesaerys had a promising future in Tevinter. Engaged to her best friend, she had a supportive father, and the Circle had just given her a promotion and the promise of more to come. She would, one day, inherit her father's seat in the Magisterium.Then her fiancé is infected with the Taint, her father goes mad, and unnerving new details about her mother's death almost two decades past come to light. Her perfect life devolves into a nightmare. In the aftermath of the Conclave disaster, she makes a discovery that connects these events together and uncovers a plot that threatens not only her own future but the future of Thedas itself.
Relationships: Felix Alexius/Original Female Character(s), Main Relationship TBD
Comments: 12
Kudos: 6





	1. Three Tevinter Mages Walk Into a Tavern...

**I.**

The air in Redcliffe village was cool and windy, the first hint of the winter storms to come. As the three mages made their way to the tavern, the citizens glared at them, daggers in their eyes. One woman even spat at the foot of the enchantress, calling her some foul name she didn’t care to understand. With a sigh, she moved forward to hook her arm through the younger man’s, catching the ghost of a smile on his ashen face.

“What the matter, Nessa? Spittle on your shoe?” Felix chuckled, placing his hand atop hers.

She swatted his arm lightly, hiding her own smile. “She’s lucky there isn’t, these are my favorite pair of slippers, I’ll have you know.” As they continued towards the modest wooden building, yards behind Gereon, their smiles faded. The magister seemed utterly unconcerned with the behavior of the townspeople, something he never would have tolerated at home. Nesaerys leaned into Felix, playing it off as a gesture of affection, keeping her voice low. “Maker, I hope you’re right about this Herald person. Every person who has gotten involved with the Venatori has gone mad.”

Felix nodded slowly, speaking in the same hushed tone. “Maybe the Herald can’t fix this mess, but from what I’ve heard, he’s our best shot.”

“Hmm. Comforting.” She deadpanned, looking around their surroundings, seeking a distraction. Beyond the jeers of the townspeople, it was quiet; much too quiet. “Felix, when was the last time you heard a bird?” She asked, seeming perturbed.

He considered the question for a moment, the corners of his mouth falling. “I… can’t recall. Minrathous maybe? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were driven away by whatever nonsense is going on here.” He shrugged, holding the door open for her.

She squeezed his arm to steel herself as they followed Gereon into the tavern. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark inside. What little light there was caught the golden scales of her dress, the glimmering reflections mesmerizing her. Felix brought them to a stop just behind his father, a few feet back from the Inquisition agents. Nesaerys’s eyes widened as they took in the sight of not one, but two qunari. One was smaller than the other and had a staff strapped to his back but was no less giant. The larger of the two had horns thicker than her arms, and a battleaxe damn near as tall as she was. A large woman bearing the symbol of the Seekers on her plated armor and an elf dressed in ragged robes regarded her with thinly veiled curiosity.

They ignored the looks, as they had grown a habit of doing in the south and kept a respectful silence as Gereon went back and forth with the agents as well as Fiona. From the way he took charge of the situation, as well as the way the Fade seemed to ripple around his being, Nesaerys guessed that the smaller qunari was the Herald Felix had spoken of. The man, being the smaller of the two, still stood a full three heads taller than herself. He had eyes that glowed green when she saw them, the same color as the Breach. They were of a much harsher hue than her own olive green, and certainly not his natural color. Clearly, the magic had affected his body in more ways than one. He seemed to notice her stare, turning his head to regard her cautiously.

The movement caught Gereon’s eye, and he followed the Herald’s gaze to the pair of them. “Oh! Forgive my manners, friends. My son, Felix.” Felix bowed his head politely. “And his betrothed, Nesaerys.”

“A pleasure.” She spoke quietly, lowering into a small curtsey and averting her gaze from the party. She looked up to Felix, who gave her hand a soothing squeeze. Thankfully, the attention quickly moved from them as the negotiators moved to sit at a nearby booth.

“Felix, could you fetch a scribe please?” Gereon asked, the unsettling smile still on his face.

He unwound his arm from her grasp with another squeeze, moving for the back of the bar. “Of course, father.”

Without Felix at her side, Nesaerys was left to stand near the warrior woman and the elven mage. Her nerves were worse than ever, and it was only years of living amongst magisters that kept her face a serene mask as she waited to see if their plan would work. She couldn’t hear the negotiations past the thumping of her heart in her ears, but right on cue, Felix returned, looking worse than when he’d left just moments ago. He walked up to his father before he stumbled, the Herald jumping up to catch him as she rushed forward, as planned, to block them from Gereon’s view. She saw the note pass into the Herald’s hand and gave a mental sigh of relief even as she outwardly played the part of concerned fiancée.

“Oh, Felix!” She gasped, helping him struggle to his feet. As she grabbed his arm to help him stand, she could feel him shivering. Her hand stroked his arm, warmth radiating from her fingers. Felix gave her a weak smile, and like a knife in her heart, she knew the fainting spell was not entirely fake, and neither was her concern then. He was getting worse.

**II.**

When they had finally settled back at the castle, and Gereon had stopped fussing over Felix, Nesaerys paced across the room, her heels clicking against the stone floors as he remained in the bed, his eyes following her. “You need to calm down, Nessa. You’re wearing a hole in the floor.”

“Calm down? _Calm down?_ ” She replied in a harsh whisper, crossing her arms across her waist. “Our fathers have gone mad, there’s some mysterious, wanna-be god coming for all of Thedas, and you’re _dying_. You are _dying_ , Felix!” Her eyes pooled with tears that she fought to keep from falling.

“We’ve known that for a while now. Or did you just realize?” He jested as he held out his arm for her to sit beside him, which she reluctantly accepted. Once she settled, he wrapped the arm around her, pulling her into his chest. He was warmer now, but only just and she hoped being near her helped to warm him. From the way he hummed contently, she guessed it did. The thought brought her a small measure of peace, enough to banish the tears.

“Of course I’ve known.” Nesaerys sighed wearily. “I just didn’t know it would be so soon.”

Felix laughed heartily. “So soon? Don’t be selfish, Ness. I’ve lived far longer than I should’ve. My only regret is not seeing you, walking down the aisle towards me, in the biggest, poofiest gown that money could buy.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Me? A poofy dress? Get your head out of the Fade, Felix. This is reality.”

“A man can dream, can’t he?” He asked jokingly, but his face was pained. Before she could comment on it, he kissed her cheek softly and pushed them back up. “Come on then. Time for our evening stroll.”

Nesaerys nodded, taking a deep breath before standing up. She walked across the room and grabbed her coat, pulling it on over her thin robes, her hands working the dozen buttons with practiced ease. She moved to grab for her staff, but she hesitated. Taking a weapon would draw attention. And that they did not need. Looking back to Felix, she was he was ready and opened the door, waiting for him to take her arm before walking out the door.

The pair of them had made a routine of taking a walk in the evenings, under the guise of getting some fresh air. It was part of their plan so that they could slip out without arousing suspicion. They walked from the castle in comfortable silence, making their way towards the Chantry where, hopefully, the Herald was waiting for them. As they neared the town’s center, Nesaerys could feel a disturbance in the Veil, bleeding the Fade into the world. It was another rift. She wanted to run ahead and help, but she was unarmed, unarmored, and she could not leave Felix on his own.

They continued to walk, the feeling in the air growing stronger by the step until it reached a peak, and then was gone. She cast a look to Felix, who seemed unperturbed by it as he pushed open the back door of the Chantry. Inside were the remnants of several demons, the floors covered in their ichor. The Herald and his companions stood before a familiar figure, who was being regarded with the same suspicion she had been. As they drew near, she could make out their conversation.

“What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it?” Dorian wondered aloud, stroking his chin like a bad stereotypical villain. “Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

Felix piped up from beside her, drawing the attention of the group once again. “He isn’t doing it for them.”

Dorian caught sight of them and smirked, the familiar expression almost making her homesick. “So good of you to join us!” He teased. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“I doubt it.” Nesaerys replied, mirroring his humor. “We could have announced that we were going to rendezvous with the Herald and he wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

Felix frowned at her slightly, and she regretted her jest at his father’s expense. “My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists that call themselves ‘Venatori’.” He looked to the Herald; his face serious. “Whatever my father has done, it’s to get to you.”

The qunari narrowed his eyes, turning to face them fully. “And why should we trust you? If you would turn against your father, what stops you from turning on us?”

“Do you think this is easy for us?” Nesaerys asked, a bit harsher than she’d intended. The Herald turned his gaze on her, his height almost dizzying at this proximity, but she would not be intimidated for trying to help. “We’re committing treason against our country, against our fathers, just by conspiring with you. Don’t make the mistake of thinking this was an easy decision.”

The giant looked her over for a moment more, considering her words, before nodding slowly. “How do we stop him?” He asked simply.

“It’s clear that _you_ are his target, Herald.” Dorian piped up again. “That gives us the advantage. I would suggest we set a trap for him. Give him exactly what he desires.” He looked to Nesaerys and Felix with a smile. “I can’t stay here. It wouldn’t do for Alexius to discover my presence.” They nodded in agreement. “I’ll be in touch. Let me know when you’re ready to deal with him.” He turned to walk away before walking backwards. “Nessa? Try not to let him get killed.” He tossed her a wink, which she returned.

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian.” Felix said ominously.

As the watched Dorian leave, Nesaerys tugged on his sleeve. “We should get back. We’ve already been gone too long.” Felix nodded, seeming slightly relieved. She looked over to where the Herald stood, clearing her throat to get his attention. “Forgive me for my outburst, Herald. These are… difficult times. We hope to hear from you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for reading! This has been an idea of mine for over a year and I am so excited to actually start publishing it. It is still a work in progress, and I am very open to constructive criticism. As I said in the tags, this is un-beta'd, so if you notice any errors I may have missed, please feel free to point them out. Likewise, if anyone is interested in *being* my beta reader, let me know!


	2. The Herald's Return

**III.**

The week after the Herald left moved torturously slow as they waited and hoped to hear from him again. Then, the news finally came that Gereon had received word the Herald accepted his invitation to meet at the castle. As the days ticked by, Nesaerys grew more and more anxious, and Felix got more and more ill. On the day the Herald was to arrive, she woke from a restless sleep to dress for his arrival. Hopefully, the problem could be resolved without violence, but she was hardly optimistic. From her trunk, she grabbed her chainmail tunic, pulling it on over her underclothes. A gentle knock came at her door, as expected.

“Come in, Vela.” She called softly, sitting in front of the vanity, letting her hair loose from its bun. The elven girl popped her head in, her expression betraying her nerves.

She walked into the room, grabbing the brush from the table nearby and standing behind Nesaerys. “How would you like it today, mistress?”

She considered her reflection for a moment, frowning at the dark circles under her green eyes. Hopefully, this would be resolved soon, one way or another, and she could get some damn decent sleep. “Pull it back please.” She replied quietly, watching as the elf nodded and set to work pulling her hair back into intricate plaits, her hands shaking like leaves. Nesaerys reached a hand around to steady her, giving the elf her best shot at a comforting smile. “Calm down, Vela. Everything will be fine. You are staying in your room tonight, right?” She asked.

The girl nodded, red ringlets bouncing around her face. “Yes, mistress. In my room, with the door barricaded, and Bran with me.” Her voice quivered as her eyes cast down to the ground. “Though I don’t know how much Bran could do against two qunari…”

“It’s not the qunari you have to worry about, Vela.” Nesaerys sighed, letting the elf continue her work. “They are here to help us. If they find you, just cooperate and I will come for you, alright?”

“Yes, mistress.” Vela said quietly, continuing the braids. They were quiet for a few minutes, both thinking themselves into circles. “Mistress… you said when we left Tevinter that… that you would free me. Is that still what you intend?”

Nesaerys turned around on the stool, looking up at the girl, giving her hands a squeeze. “Vela, you were free the moment we left home. The only reason I kept you with me was so I could protect you until the danger had passed. After tonight, you are free to go wherever you please. I’ll give you the money to go. Maker knows how much money is overdue for all the years you’ve worked for me.” She chuckled.

Vela was on the verge of tears. “You’ve always been good to me, mistress. I-I don’t know where I would go, but it’s nice to have the option.”

Nesaerys pulled her into a light embrace, rubbing a hand on her back. “Of course, my dear. Anywhere but Ferelden, though. This country is miserable.” She laughed before releasing her.

“My lady?” Bran’s low voice came from beyond the door before he pushed it open, his dark brows creased in concern. He was dressed in his full armor with his greatsword strapped to his back. “The scouts say the Herald is nearly here. Shall I take Vela to the room now?”

She nodded, rising from her seat. Vela moved to grab the dress laid out on the bed, helping Nesaerys pull it on, securing the front tie loosely, so the pattern of the chainmail could not be seen through the fabric. Vela looked up at her, hazel eyes rimmed with moisture. “Maker protect you, mistress. Please be safe.”

“May He watch over us all.” Nesaerys smiled reassuringly, nodding to Bran. “Keep her safe. Please.”

He nodded once, ushering the girl out the door. “Until my last breath.”

She laughed nervously. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

**IV.**

Nesaerys stood beside Felix behind Gereon on the dais of the main hall. A large flame roared in the hearth behind them, and she reached towards it, finding comfort in its searing heat. The doors at the end of the hall creaked open to permit the Herald and his companions. They were no fools to come to the meeting unarmed, in fact, one could say they were armed to the teeth. The other qunari was still with the Herald, but the Seeker was absent. Instead, there was a blond elven woman with a bow and a sneer walking beside the bald elven mage she had seen before.

They stopped and spoke to the guards for a moment before they were led up to the floor before the three Tevinters. “My lord magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived.” One of the guards announced.

Gereon rose from the throne, his hands raised in invitation as he extended his charade of false friendship with the Herald. “My friend! So good to see you! I am sure we can come to an agreement that benefits all parties involved.” He said amicably.

Fiona stepped forward from her spot below the dais, her face in a near-snarl. “Are we to have no part in deciding our own fates?”

“Now, Fiona…” Gereon replied as if she were no more than a rebellious child. “You have entrusted your people to me. It is for me to decide what is best.”

The Herald spoke up, his arms crossed in a defiant gesture. “If Fiona wishes to be included, then I invite her on behalf of the Inquisition.” The Grand Enchanter nodded in gratitude.

Seeming displeased, Gereon turned back to the throne, taking a seat once more. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach. I have them. What would you offer in trade for their assistance?” He asked, his mask of peace beginning to slide.

From the corner of her eye, Nesaerys saw one of the guards stumble before being dragged off into the shadows by an unseen assailant. Felix caught the movement too and stilled her with a grasp of her hand and the slightest shake of his head. The Herald knew of the danger. Clearly, there was another plan in place to protect him.

“I’d rather hear more about this time magic you’ve been using, Alexius.” The Herald asked directly, clearly done wasting time on pleasantries.

But Gereon did not flinch but deflected the question as if it were a gnat in his face. “I am afraid I have no idea what you mean, Herald.”

Felix stepped forward, and she followed him, terrified for what might come next. “He knows everything, father.”

“Felix…” The magister looked more disappointed than surprised. “What have you done?”

His reply was cut off by the Herald’s booming voice. “We know about the Venatori.”

Gereon stood suddenly from his seat, his movements sharp with agitation. “Do you now? You dare try to turn my son against me?” He hissed. “You walk into my castle with your stolen mark, the origin of which you are ignorant to, and claim to know anything at all? You are a _mistake_. A filthy ox that got in the way of a plan beyond his worth.”

The Herald shook off the insult like it was nothing. “Who killed the Divine?” He asked firmly, his companions tensing for battle. Nesaerys felt her mana pool in her fingers as her instincts sharpened, ready to defend whoever she must.

“The Conclave was the Elder One’s moment. It was to be His great victory and you were unworthy of even standing in His presence!” Gereon all but yelled, all semblance of friendship gone from his face, replaced by unhinged anger.

Felix shook his head sadly. “Father, don’t you hear yourself? Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds like every villainous cliché the Southerners believe of us.” Dorian’s smooth voice came from the wings of the room as he stepped into the light with a wry smile.

Gereon grew all the more furious. “Dorian.” He spat. “You had your chance to be a part of this and you turned me down. You could have served a new god. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule the world as we were meant to.”

“My father spoke of this Elder One…” Nesaerys hissed, her anger building. “This was his doing? He killed all of those people at the Conclave and you support him?!”

The magister turned on her, his eyes mad with rage. “Now you, I am not surprised by. I tried to tell the Elder One you were unworthy of His plans for you.” Felix stepped between her and his father as their tempers flared. “No matter, I will deal with you too.”

“Stop this madness, please!” Felix shouted, ready to defend Nesaerys, but still hoping his father would see sense. “Give this up. Let the southern mages go and we can all go home.”

Like the flip of a coin, Gereon’s face turned to sadness. “This is the only way to save you, Felix. The Elder One promised. If I deal with the Herald, he’ll save you!” He all but sobbed.

Nesaerys’s anger immediately dissipated, and she understood his motives then. She would have moved mountains to save Felix, but that wasn’t what he wanted. “Gereon, he’s dying. We have accepted it and you need to as well.”

“Quiet, you treacherous snake!” He screamed, whipping back to the Herald. “Venatori, seize this ox. The Elder One demands his life!”

As if it were a signal, rogues appeared behind the guards, slitting their throats almost simultaneously. “Your men are dead, Alexius.” The Herald yelled. “Now let us stop any further violence.”

Gereon tore of the amulet he wore, the pendant pulsing with the same power she had felt at the tavern. “You… should never have existed!’ He cried, pouring his mana into the necklace.

“No!” Dorian shouted, swinging his staff at Gereon, knocking the magister off balance. But the spell had reached the point of no return. A rift opened up before the Herald, swallowing him and Dorian both.

Nesaerys screamed, only Felix holding her back from rushing into the fray. “Dorian!” She shrieked, looking to Gereon. “What have you done?!”

For a moment, it almost seemed as if the veil of madness had lifted from Gereon’s mind, and he looked truly upset by what he had done. The Herald’s companions unsheathed their weapons and made ready to charge at them, but before the smoke of the spell had even cleared, Dorian and the Herald reappeared, looking very much worse for wear. The qunari advanced on Gereon, while Dorian smirked triumphantly.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” He taunted. Nesaerys rushed forward to grab him, looking him over for injuries, but blessedly found none other than minor wounds. Felix came up behind them, placing a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, his face relieved.

Gereon dropped to his knees, expression defeated. “You won… there is no point in extending this… charade…” He looked to where the three young Tevinters stood, his eyes resting on his son. “Felix…”

His son moved to crouch beside him, grabbing his arm. “It’s going to be alright, father.”

The magister shook his head slowly, a tear falling from his eyes as he reached up to touch his son’s face. “You’ll die…”

“Everyone dies.” Felix replied simply. They pair of them stood, and Gereon was led away by Inquisition soldiers. Felix looked to Nesaerys, a sad smile on his face as he followed them out. Her heart broke for him, and for his father. Gereon had been claimed by this madness so suddenly, just like her own father. He had always been kind to her when she was a child. Her chest ached, weary from the way things had changed.

Dorian sighed from beside her, hand on her shoulder. “Well, glad that’s over—” He was interrupted by the creaking of the doors at the end of the hall as they permitted a squad of armored Fereldan soldiers, who flanked the group of them that remained. “Or not?”

“Grand Enchanter Fiona.” An irritated voice spoke. Nesaerys moved past the guards to see who it was. She had never seen the auburn-haired man before, but he had a regal bearing and his voice carried authority. “I’ve come to discuss your abuse of my hospitality.”

Fiona stepped from the sidelines and scurried slightly before the man, bowing. “King Alistair, I assure you, we never intended—"

“When you force my people from their homes, you’ll find I care very little about what you _intended_.” He spat at her, his tone clearly cutting her to the quick. “You and your mages have worn out your welcome. Leave Ferelden now, or we will force you to do so.” He ordered in a tone that left no room for argument.

Fiona stuttered. “W-we have hundreds who need protection. Where shall we go?”

The Herald, who up until that point had been quietly observing, stepped forward. “The Inquisition came here for the mages’ assistance. You’ll come with us, as our allies.” He said firmly.

“A generous offer.” Fiona seemed pleasantly surprised. “But will the rest of the Inquisition honor it?”

“The Breach is a threat to us all.” The qunari replied, resolute in his decision. “We cannot afford to be divided now. If we are to succeed, we will need your full support.”

King Alistair nodded. “A generous offer indeed. I’d suggest you take it, because I have run out of generosity where you’re concerned.”

Fiona wilted again at the King’s ire. “Then we accept. We would be fools not to.”

**V.**

After the king and his soldiers had left, and the castle had settled, Nesaerys made her way to Felix’s room to celebrate their victory. She had a bottle of a dark red wine in hand, two goblets in the other. She’d found Vela and Bran, letting them know that the danger had passed, before making her way to Felix’s room. Three swift knocks on the door and she slid in, closing the door behind her.

“Interested in a bit of liquid cheer?” She jested, but upon turning around, her face dropped. Felix sat on the bed, his bag already packed and ready on the floor beside him, the same sad smile on his face. “Felix?”

“I’m going home, Nessa.” He said quietly, barely above a whisper. “I’ve not much time left, but I have to tell the Magisterium what happened here. Warn them against the Venatori.”

Nesaerys nodded slowly, placing the wine on the table nearby and moving to kneel before him, her hands resting on his knees. “Alright. I didn’t expect to leave so soon, but I can have my things packed within the hour.”

Felix shook his head, a hand coming out to cradle her chin. “You’re going with Dorian. I know you want to stay and see this through. I do as well, but I am on borrowed time as it is, and I barely have magic to aid them in the fight. And this Elder One is still looking for you. Don’t make it easy by walking back into the Imperium.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Felix. I’m coming with you.” She insisted, her heart sinking. “We’re going home, we’re going to find you another healer, and we’ll borrow some more time.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, quickly brushed away by his fingers. “We’ll get married, like we were always supposed to. I’ll put on the biggest, poofiest, most terribly Orlesian dress I can find, and we’ll get married.” Her voice grew thick with emotion.

He just continued to smile, stroking his thumb across her cheek. “I still think you’d look beautiful no matter what you wore. You could walk down the aisle in a potato sack and I’d be just as happy. But that isn’t what you want. It never has been.”

Nesaerys glared at him through her tears. “How could you say that? I love you, Felix…”

“I know you do, Nessa.” He chuckled. “Enough to marry a dying man just to make him happy. But you don’t love me the way I love you. The way a wife should love a husband. We both know it. It was nice to pretend while we were here, but…” He faltered for the first time in a long time. “There’s no use in extending this charade.” He mirrored Gereon’s words from earlier.

The truth of his words hit her like a knife to the gut. She bowed her head and sobbed openly into his legs, and he pulled her up to cradle her in his arms, murmuring nonsense to soothe her. “I love you, Nessa. I always have. I could be selfish and let you marry me and live out whatever is left of my life with you. And I could die in your arms, my last sight in this life watching you cry for me, just as you are now.” He hooked his fingers under her chin, bringing her face up to look at him. “But I would rather remember you as the girl from the water gardens, dress hiked up to your knees as you chased after me, giggling like a madwoman. I’d rather remember this beautiful face with a smile, not wet with tears.”

Overcome with a mix of relief and grief, she pulled him close, their lips coming together in a kiss that expressed the emotion she couldn’t put into words. He returned it happily, holding her waist tightly as he did. When they broke apart, her tears had subsided a bit, and she rested her forehead on his.

Felix smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. “I’ll remember that too.” He pulled her into a tight hug, pressing a final kiss to the crown of her head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a chain, from which a golden band swung, encrusted with stones the same color as her eyes. Her wedding band. He placed it in her hand, closing her fingers around it. “Now go, I already had your things packed this morning. Dorian should be waiting for you in the stables.”

Nesaerys nodded weakly, picking herself up from his lap, straightening her dress and wiping away the makeup that ran down her face. “You always knew me better than I knew myself, Felix.”

“I know.” He chuckled, before shooing her towards the door. “Now go. There’s a storm coming, and we’ve certainly worn out our welcome.”

She opened the door, turning back to take a final look at him. “Felix, I—”

“I know, Nessa.” Felix smiled fondly. “I know you do.”

She returned his smile, a smile for him to remember her by, before she closed the door, sprinting towards the stables. The skies were darkening with clouds and the air was heavy with moisture. Her horse was already saddled up, waiting beside Dorian who sat on his dappled mare. Vela was a few feet away, astride a mule, waving happily at Nesaerys. Bran sat atop a draft horse, pulling a cart behind it. She quickly mounted her stallion, giving him a pat on the snout, and smiled as he whinnied.

“Ready?” Dorian asked her, his face kind as he took in her tear-stained face.

Nesaerys opened her hand to see the necklace Felix had given her. She brought the ring to her lips for a moment before securing the chain around her neck. Looking back towards the castle windows, she saw Felix smiling down at her. He gave her an encouraging smile as he waved goodbye. “I’m ready.”

She spurred the horse on with a deep breath, feeling a weight that she didn’t know existed lifting from her shoulders. As she looked to the road ahead, riding straight towards the Breach, she heard birds singing in the trees. Although her heart was heavy, her face cracked into a wide smile, and she felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felix deserved so much better. Such a good man. Damn you, Bioware.
> 
> And my formatting deserves better. Damn you, AO3.


	3. Onwards Towards the Breach

**VI.**

Within a few hours of riding, the group of Tevinter strays had mostly caught up to the Inquisition caravan, laden down as it was with hundreds of mages. Bran and Vela stayed together near the rear of the group with the other wagons, but only after Nesaerys had demanded a dozen reassurances that they remained with her of their own free will. Dorian and Nesaerys rode up to the front in search of the Herald. He stuck out like a sore thumb, riding on a massive draft horse at the head of his party.

The Herald’s companions regarded them warily but made no move to stop them. The qunari heard the approach of hooves behind him and he looked behind him, frowning slightly as he saw the mages. “May I help you?” He asked gruffly, turning back to face front.

“Are you not thrilled to see me?” Dorian asked in mock indignation. “The _nerve!”_ He shook his head, but the other man did not seem amused.

Nesaerys rolled her eyes at Dorian, moving closer to the Herald, her hand extended in greeting. “Herald, it is good to meet you properly. I am Nesaerys, as you may recall.”

The Herald turned to look her over again, bright green eyes seeming to pierce through her. She didn’t know what exactly he was looking for, but he seemed satisfied, clasping her hand in his. One hand of his could have held both of her fists with room to spare, something she found slightly unnerving. “Meravas Adaar.” He replied simply, releasing her hand. “I take it that the two of you are planning to join the Inquisition?”

“If you would have us.” Nesaerys nodded. “I can’t speak for Dorian, but I take this Venatori threat very personally.”

“I would have to agree.” Dorian chimed in. “These fanatics are making us look bad, and _that_ I cannot tolerate.”

Meravas cracked the ghost of a smile. “ _That’s_ what you can’t tolerate about this situation. Glad for the insight.” He looked at the two mages once more, nodding to himself. “I suppose we could use you. We’re certainly not in a position to turn down help.”

“Grrreeeaaaatttt…” Someone groaned behind them. Nesaerys turned to see the elf with the jagged blond hair glaring daggers at her. “More mages. As if we didn’t have three hundred of the buggers already.”

“Sera…” Meravas chastised her like a father would his child. “Play nice.”

“ _PPbbttth!”_ She blew a raspberry at him. “I like you, _Harold._ Let’s keep it that way.”

He sighed wearily, seeming to decide it wasn’t worth the argument. “I’ve fought with Dorian, but what are your skills, Nesaerys?” He asked the altus.

“I’m really good at setting things on fire.” She nodded emphatically, and to her surprise, he chuckled a bit. “I am an Enchanter in the Circle of Vyrantium where I tutored apprentices in primal magic as well as spirit healing. Other than that, I aided my parents in their research on ancient elvhen history. I even studied it for a year at the University of Orlais.”

“Fair enough.” Meravas replied as the crested a hill, tossing a look over his shoulder. “Seems you might have a new friend, Solas.” He chuckled dryly. Nesaerys looked back and saw that he addressed the bald elven mage she’d seen with him before. The man leveled her with a withering glare, causing her to blush and look away. He did not seem overly fond of the idea.

The ride continued into the evening with little conversation between the two Tevinters and the rest of the party. When the caravan came to a stop for the night, they found themselves alone. Meravas’s companions hardly wished to associate with them and the rebel mages eyed them suspiciously, not that anyone could blame them. Vela brought them both bedrolls and some sort of jerky to eat before returning to the cart.

Nesaerys choked down the jerky just to have something in her stomach before she removed her outer robes and sat on her bedroll, resting her chin on her knees as she gazed into the fire. Had Felix left Redcliffe yet? He must have; she doubted the king would let any mage tarry long. Her heart ached as she reached down to bring the chained ring to her lips. Guilt threatened to overwhelm her as she imagined him returning home, alone and ill.

“Felix wanted you to be here. You know that, right?” Dorian asked her suddenly, causing her to jump slightly. Nesaerys looked at him and he saw the tears that threatened to fall. She needed him to hear this; to hear that she was not only here for her own selfish reasons. “He told me the last time we spoke before you left Minrathous.”

Her dark brows narrowed at him as she wiped away a treacherous tear. “So, you both knew, but decided _not_ to clue me in? Am I not capable of making my own decisions?”

Dorian gave her a pointed look. “If you had known what Felix intended, you never would have let him leave without you. Maker knows you would have waltzed right back into the Imperium regardless of the danger.” He gestured to her tears, which were falling in earnest now. “It has only been a few hours and you’re already having second thoughts about leaving him.”

“Felix is going home to die. Alone.” Nesaerys whispered sharply, her grief melding with her anger. “And I allowed it. As did you.”

When Dorian tried to reach out to her, she quickly stood and walked off a few feet, taking her warmth with her. “This is what he wanted, Ness. He wanted you to be safe and happy. It won’t happen right away, but just give it time.” Her face was hidden from him, but he saw her nod slightly. “There’s a good girl. Now, be a dear and come back over here before I freeze to death.”

Nesaerys wiped at her face before turning and walking back to her bedroll with a blank face. When she was within arm’s reach again, Dorian audibly sighed in relief, basking in the aura her magic gave off. Leaning against him, she looked up into his eyes with a glare. “If you tell anyone that I cried, I will tell them what a softie you are.”

Dorian laughed quietly at that. “I do enjoy how you threaten me, Nessa. It makes me feel loved.”

The sarcasm and empty threats signaled their return to normalcy, or whatever passed for normalcy in a world gone mad. In time, they drifted off to sleep, but only after much complaining from the both of them on the lack of a proper bed.

**VII.**

Nesaerys sat along a cliff’s edge, her legs dangled freely over the gorge, heels tapping against the rock wall that held her. Olive green eyes gazed up into the constantly shifting sky, resting on the bright gash between the waking world and the Fade. _What would happen if I went through it?_ She wondered. _Would I just wake up in my bed? Or would my soul come through it and leave my body behind?_ A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of it. But her morbid curiosity would not allow her to turn away from the Breach. The village below was vaguely shaped, given that she had never seen it and therefore could not picture it.

She felt a presence by her side and turned to see the glowing form of the familiar spirit of love that had long been her companion in the Fade. The spirit took the form of an elven woman, her body bathed in golden light. Her name was Latharia, ‘circle of love’. Or so Nesaerys had named her when she was much younger. Latharia looked up at the Breach alongside the mage. “I have never seen anything like this in all of my time, _da’len_.” She sighed, seeming troubled. “The barrier between the worlds has grown weaker, and the dreaming bleeds into the waking.”

“This cannot be what my father wants.” Nesaerys frowned, rubbing her temples in frustration. “Demons will destroy everything beyond the Veil, surely he realizes that?”

The spirit came to stand in front of her, looking sad. “Your father has many dark secrets.” Latharia watched from the edges of her father’s dreams when he slept, never roaming into his consciousness. She made Nesaerys promise to never tell her father of her existence, or else she could no longer protect her. “Many powerful demons haunt his mind. He is going to great lengths to keep his mind safe from intrusion. I have not seen his dreams for weeks.”

Her father’s paranoia increased by the day since her mother’s disappearance. He knew his daughter was _somniari_ and had always blocked her from his dreams. But now, even Latharia was barred from them. A shame, because anything they could see would likely be of use to the Inquisition. Perhaps even the identity of this Elder One. That was likely the exact reason for her father’s precaution.

Footsteps from behind Nesaerys pulled her attention from her thoughts as Latharia quickly faded away. She did not even turn around, expecting another demon came to tempt her. Despair, most likely. But she felt no pain or discomfort as she usually would in a demon’s presence. “This is a bad time for me, could we try again next Tuesday perhaps?” She said dryly in an attempt to stifle the useless bargaining attempts.

“Yes, you do seem terribly busy.” The voice deadpanned, catching her attention. Solas, the Herald’s elven mage companion, appeared in her peripherals. He regarded her with curious blue-grey eyes.

Nesaerys turned to face him, her legs continuing to swing idly. “And what manner of demon might you be, hmm?” She asked in jest.

A bitter smile crossed Solas’s face, but he did not answer. Instead, he looked out over the vague outline of a village that her mind had conjured up. “This is not what Haven looks like.” He said, almost sounding like a chastisement as the Fade shifted to give the view more detail, more color. The village came to life as sprites came forth to play the shapes of people milling about in their daily routines.

She laughed quietly as he changed the landscape of her dream with ease. He was like her, then. It explained why the Veil rippled around him so easily, even in the waking world. “You seem very familiar with the art of dreaming, friend.”

“And you seem very… aware, Tevinter.” The moniker was said with a sharp tone, making clear his distaste for her homeland. But she was more than used to that. “Though I suppose that would explain your keen interest in the Fade.”

Nesaerys shrugged casually. “Could it not be because the Fade is a vastly interesting place? Must I have an ulterior motive?”

Solas moved to sit along the cliff edge a yard or so away, smoothing down his tunic. “I must admit it would surprise me if you did not.” He said evenly.

She laughed quietly. “Ah, yes. Us tricky Tevinter mages always up to something nefarious.” Rolling her eyes, she looked down at her fiddling fingers. “I am not here to interfere with your work. Though I would not be opposed to working together. In times like these, I doubt there could be such a thing as too many Fade experts.”

The elf regarded her neutrally, which was an improvement over outright hostility, she supposed. “And what of your… research on elvhen history? Have your people learned much from plundering the ruins of Arlathan?” His tone was sharper now, but his face remained placid.

Nesaerys frowned deeply at his suggestion. “I cannot speak to the research methods of others, but my mother and father always had the utmost respect for the ruins he encountered. He hoped to learn _from_ the ancients, not desecrate what remains of their history.” She paused with a weary sigh, eyes turning up to the Breach once again. “At least I _thought_ they did. Recent events have made it clear I did not know them as well as I thought I did.”

Solas didn’t respond at first, and she was hardly about to press him. They sat in silence for a few minutes watching the spirits drift by. When he finally broke the spell, his tone had returned to one more neutral. “Come see me in Haven. Perhaps I might be able to find something for you to assist with.”

The corner of her mouth ticked upward. Elves simply didn’t talk to her like that at home. Once she had gotten over the initial shock, she found it endlessly amusing. “As you command.” She replied dryly, but when she turned to look at him, he had already disappeared. “A pleasure talking to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading the first few chapters pretty quickly to get the plot established. After that, updates won't be so crazy, I promise. Thank you again for reading!


	4. Lunch, Interrupted

**VIII.**

The caravan rose early the next morning, _far_ too early for Nesaerys and Dorian who were habitually late risers. Dragging themselves from their bedrolls, they mounted their horses in silent misery, following a short distance behind the party of companions. It took a full hour before they muttered a word to anyone, and even then, their conversations were brief. By early afternoon, the party had crested that final hill and Nesaerys breathed a sigh of relief.

Below them was a valley that led right up to the base of a mountain, from which the swirling, ominous figure of the Breach reached up to the sky. It seemed even more imposing here than it did in the Fade. In the valley was the village of Haven, set against the majestic backdrop of the Frostbacks. The town itself was small, but the sheer number of tents and makeshift shelters surrounding the town’s walls could nearly qualify it as a city, curving around the banks of an icy lake.

“It’s beautiful,” Nesaerys whispered quietly, the scenery so different from the tropical landscape of Tevinter.

Dorian huffed, tugging his coat tighter around him. “Bloody cold is what it is…”

“You’d better get used to it, Dorian.” She teased in a sing-song tone. “Until this is settled, we live as Southerners.”

“Don’t remind me.” He replied curtly, maneuvering his horse until he rode as close to her as he could, sighing in relief. “You’re like a human fireplace.”

Nesaerys laughed, utterly unbothered by the cold. “You’d better hope I don’t tire of you too quickly, or you’ll be out in the cold, so to speak.”

Meravas had apparently sent word ahead with a count of the Inquisition’s new allies because the village was a flurry of activity as tents were being pitched at a fever pace. Nesaerys stabled her horse and resigned herself to wait, knowing that Bran and Vela would be at the tail end of the caravan regardless. Instead, she began to make her way towards the tavern, hoping to find something that could pass for food. Just before she reached the door, she heard the sound of armored footsteps coming up behind her, setting off alarms in her head. She turned to see a ridiculously tall man in Inquisition armor coming up behind her.

“Nesaerys Azadore?” He asked, his voice thick with a Starkhaven accent, eyes narrowed in the usual suspicion. She nodded warily; her body taut like a bowstring. “Come with me.”

She scoffed at the man, looking him up and down, completely undeterred by the difference in their height. “Under whose authority?”

“The Commander’s.” He replied, bright blue eyes hard as his hand came to rest on the pommel of his sword.

Nesaerys sighed, dropping her hands to her sides. It would not do well to resist the Inquisition’s leadership so early on in her membership. “Very well.”

The man gestured towards the Chantry, falling into step behind her as she made her way into the large building. “The door straight ahead. They’re expecting you.”

“Great.” She mumbled, pushing the door open. The voices within hushed at her entry as she took in the people standing around a giant table, covered with an equally giant map of Thedas. She had hoped Meravas would be there, but luck did not favor her in that regard.

She recognized the Seeker from the Inquisition’s first visit to Redcliffe. “Please, sit.”

Nesaerys crossed her arms across her chest. “I’d rather not.”

“Very well.” The seeker replied, pacing around the other side of the table. “I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. This is Commander Cullen.” She gestured to a tall blonde man who, if possible, seemed even more displeased by her presence than the Seeker. He emanated the same strange energy as the Templars back home, though much fainter. “And this is Sister Leliana, our Spymaster.” A redheaded woman, her face partially hidden by the shadows of her hood came forward held up a leather folio. A dossier by the looks of it.

“Nesaerys Firestride. Of House Azadore. Daughter of Magister Vahaerys Azadore.” Leliana read from the pages, her tone giving nothing away. “Junior Enchanter in the Minrathous Circle of Magi."

“That would be me.” She sighed, settling down into the chair behind her. “Is there any particular reason why I’m here? Besides the obvious.”

The Commander stepped forward; his face pinched with suspicion. “The obvious being that your father is a member of the Venatori? Yes.”

Leliana held up a calming hand. “We only seek to ensure that your loyalties are in the right place. That is all.” Nesaerys crossed her arms, looking at them expectantly.

Cassandra walked around the table, keeping a cautious distance from her. “Why are you working against your father?”

“My father and I are rarely on the same side of any matter. The ones involving mass murder, you’ll find the difference even greater.” She replied coolly as she tried to keep her emotions in check. “I don’t agree with what the Venatori aim to do, so I oppose them, same as you.”

The spymaster tossed a black journal down onto the table with a thud. It opened to a random page, where Nesaerys could recognize her father’s handwriting within. “Ah, you found the journals, did you? I suppose you’ve given them a read too.” No response. “You needn’t have broken into my things. I brought them here intending to share them with the Inquisition.”

The sister tilted her head curiously. “You seem like a clever woman. Surely you know there is more to it than that.” She pointed to the journal. “This is written in elvhen. Solas has confirmed it. And in this, your father wrote about how you would come to serve the Elder One.”

“And in the Herald’s report on the happenings in Redcliffe,” The commander placed a roll of parchment beside the journal. “He describes that in this odd future he saw, you fought for the Elder One. With the aid of _dragons.”_ He narrowed his eyes. “That cannot be a coincidence.”

Nesaerys sighed wearily. “Dorian mentioned that. He _also_ mentioned that I appeared to be under the influence of red lyrium.” She rubbed her cheeks in frustration. “My father was a good man. He was kind and thoughtful. He trained me to aid him in his research and encouraged my magical training. But something changed in him about two years ago when my mother disappeared. He tried to make me…” She hesitated, knowing they would disapprove of the next part of her story.

“Make you do what?” Cassandra pressed, her face stern.

“A few days before he left Tevinter, my father came home and summoned me to the great hall… He seemed ill. He was pale, his eyes bloodshot. The servants were terrified. Father had become violent with them as his mind continued to slip.” Her voice began to tremble with fear at the memory. “He told me there was a ritual I had to perform. A blood ritual…” Her head dropped into her hands, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes as the Seeker and the Commander went rigid.

Leliana stepped forward, her voice deceptively calming. “I know this is probably difficult for you. We just want to know what happened.”

Nesaerys nodded, sitting up again. “He tried to make me sacrifice one of the servants, Vela. Said that it would help awaken my full potential.”

“And did you do it?” The commander asked, his tone harsh as he gripped at the hilt of his blade.

“No!” She insisted, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m a healer! Blood magic and sacrifice is diametrically opposed to _everything_ I stand for!” Her father had tried to force her one time, when she was fifteen. He insisted it would bolster her natural affinity for magic. She had gotten as far as dragging the blade across her hand before her mother discovered them and demanded she stop. Her parents had argued for days behind closed doors. When they emerged, her father left for a month, while her mother assured her that it would never happen again.

Cassandra nodded slowly, relaxing almost imperceptibly. “And then you left for Ferelden with Alexius? And your father allowed it?”

“Felix was my betrothed since I was a little girl. His father was going mad just like my own, so I sought comfort with him.” Her heart ached at the thought of Felix, and she wondered how he was faring on his own. “When I left, I found my father’s journals. And read what he had planned for me. That once Gereon disposed of the Herald, the Elder One would come and lead me to my destiny. I suppose that’s what happened in that false future. I want no part of that, I assure you.”

“And what of your _slaves_?” Cullen asked, his tone razor sharp. “Surely you know that slavery is illegal outside of the Imperium?”

Nesaerys bristled at the insinuation, crossing her arms in a defiant posture. “They are not _my slaves_. Bran came to work for my father as a free man. Vela belonged to my mother before her death. Before I left for Redcliffe, I told Vela she would be free to go anywhere she wished and that I would compensate her fairly. She _chose_ to stay with me.” Her eyes narrowed. “As my _paid_ handmaid.”

The three shared a look, unspoken words seeming to pass between them before the Cassandra spoke, her voice still gruff. “Very well. Thank you for your honesty. We’ll be keeping a close eye on you, but you can stay. You are dismissed.”

Nesaerys bowed her head. “Thank you.” She said simply, turning and leaving from the room as she continued to fume on the inside. When the door shut behind her, she released a frustrated breath. A Templar would stand there and judge her for her father’s slave ownership as if they did not collar and abuse their mages in the South. She hardly agreed with the institution of slavery, but she was in no position to change it. All she could do was make sure that the house slaves were treated well and cared for to the best of her ability, which was more than she could say for many southern Templars.

When she stepped outside the Chantry, the sun had set already and her stomach growled. After that little interrogation, she decided that she needed a meal _and_ a drink and made her way to the tavern once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Yesterday, I went back and made a few changes to previously posted chapters and the summary. Basically, rather than Ness's mother being dead, she is missing and presumed dead. 
> 
> We're finally to Haven!


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